The Greatest Canvas of All
by Omoni
Summary: Inspired by the artwork of Luco Millian, found here - Pure smut, Mai/Zuko.


_Writer's Note: This very naughty and extremely ridiculous fic would never have existed without the brilliant artwork of Luco_Millian and the incredibly brilliant mind of Alexb49 over on LJ. You guys are awesome and a bad influence on me, let me tell you._

_Please check out Luco_Millian's awesome artwork over on livejournal! DO IT FAST._

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At first, when Mai approached him with the idea, Zuko thought that it was absolutely ludicrous. There were things to do, still, and any spare time shouldn't be wasted doing frivolous things.

But then she smiled that special smile of hers, one that never failed to shoot through to his heart as well as his groin, and he very easily submitted to her will.

It was nearing sunset, but Mai kept the window open for the view as she worked. She made him lie on his front on their bed, shirtless and relaxed, while she opened several jars of what looked like paints or oils. At first, he had his eyes on the scene outside, nature providing him with a beautiful tableau of reds and pinks, but then Mai took out a very fine-tipped paintbrush and sat down, right on his backside, so that she was straddling him, and he lost interest quickly.

He opened his mouth, but she reached over and took hold of one of the jars, shifting her hips in a way that silenced any kind of words from getting past his throat. With surprising ease, Mai rolled back one of her sleeves, dipped the paintbrush in the jar she held, and then started, very slowly, to paint something on his back.

It was cold, and it made him shiver, but she merely chuckled at the sight of his goose bumps. Clearly she would not be deterred. It didn't matter, anyway, for the paint heated up seconds after being put on, and he relaxed, relishing in the strange feeling.

Instead, Zuko focused not on the image she was creating (he couldn't tell, anyway, and she refused to give him hints) but in the feelings that the very act of her painting was giving him. Every time she leaned over, her ankles would seek purchase on his thighs. Her own thighs squeezed around him when she reached beside her to pick up another jar, and every time she pressed closer, her intimate warmth was so obvious that it was like bittersweet torture. He tried to distract her, tried to get her to put the brush away for now, but she slapped his hand away from her thigh and scowled, and he dropped his hand, shifting a little against the bed to ease the pressure already building.

Soon, the paint felt strange, almost like it was tugging at his skin a little. Zuko knew it meant that it was drying, but it didn't stop the discomfort. He shifted a bit, and Mai did the worst thing possible: she squeezed down harder, trying to immobilise him. Instead, it forced him to groan a little, the friction feeling so good and yet such a tease. To his dismay, Mai chuckled yet again, and continued to paint.

The sun sank further into the horizon, and Zuko's concentration went with it. It was starting to get very hard to think of anything else other than his throbbing cock and how desperate he was to just swing up, grab Mai, and make her forget about this kind of torture.

Quite suddenly, she moved off of his back, and higher up on the bed beside him. He started to get up, but she gripped onto his shoulder and pushed him back down, her eyes narrowed. Clearly, she wasn't done yet. He whined a little, reaching over and slipping his fingers under her loose pantsleg, touching bare skin, but she didn't loosen her grip on him, nor did she stop painting.

Already the entire room was starting to bleed with the red of dusk, but Zuko's eyes were only for Mai, now. He focused on the sharp angles of her face, the deep concentration that lined her eyes, and the slight biting of her bottom lip as she added detail. A man could lose himself in that face, and Zuko gladly let himself get lost, hoping he never found a compass.

When she pulled the paintbrush away, he almost sang with relief, until she poked at him and told him to get to his feet. He reddened; doing so would obviously make him look like a fool, but she demanded it again, and shyly, he obeyed, sitting up slowly so as not to crack the paint on his back. She stood before him, holding paint jar and paintbrush, trailing the last of the design upon his shoulder. Zuko resisted the urge to bury his face into her stomach and rip her clothes off with his teeth, but only just.

Finally, she closed the jars, set the paintbrush aside, and held out her hands. Zuko blushed again but took them, his arousal evident in the way his pants tented a little. Mai licked her lips, her eyes lingering over the sight, and he felt his stomach clench at the sight, but she didn't act on it. She took his hand and walked him over to the full-length mirror. She turned him so that his back was to the mirror, and told him to look, very carefully, at her accomplishment.

He looked over his shoulder, his curiosity overcoming his lust for a moment, and his breath hitched in his throat. With stunning and lifelike colours and lines, Mai had drawn a beautiful red dragon along his back, very much like the one he had encountered in the Sun Warrior ruins. She smiled up at him when he looked back at her, unable to keep his stunned surprise off his face, and she told him that, sometimes, she could see the grace and the serenity of a dragon in him, and that even in his worst of moods he reminded her of one, still.

He stared at the image in the mirror, entranced by how detailed and lifelike it was. He had known that Mai was an artist: the portrait of them in her bedroom was a testament of that. But he had never known just how intricate her abilities were. He was speechless.

Slowly, gazing at his reflection, she reached to his hips and started unfastening his belt. Once again, Zuko's breath caught, but she merely smiled, her eyes glued to his through the mirror. Slowly, she slid his pants down, inch-by-inch, the caress of the cool air sending faint shivers up and down his back. She pressed close, her eyes flickering with her own arousal and need, and he reached out and held onto her, smiling back at her, unable to hide it.

Wordlessly, she tugged his pants all the way down, her eyes never leaving his. His fingers easily undid the buttons along her silk tunic, dropping it to the floor to join his own clothes. She pressed closer to him, pushing her hips hard against his erection, and he broke their shared look, unable to suppress the shudder and the involuntary closing of his eyes.

The room blazed with the dying light of sunset yellow. It danced off of Mai's yellow eyes, highlighted her midnight hair. Wordlessly, she took his hand and walked him back over to the bed. He carefully stepped over the discarded clothing, taking care not to trip, before he was pushed rather roughly back onto his front. He started to get up again, but Mai reached down and pushed him back, and he shut his eyes, shivering a little from his own need and his anticipation.

He looked over his shoulder as Mai undressed. To his delight, she kept her eyes glued on him, as each piece of clothing was carelessly discarded to join the already growing pile on the floor. Even naked, she still wore her knives, and the sight of the dying sunlight on glittering steel was far more arousing than he could have ever imagined.

He reached out for her, but she scooted away, instead climbing slowly back onto the bed with him. Once more, she sat down on his backside, and he shifted back against her without control, already feeling how warm and wet she was against him.

He groaned out her name, his voice a mix between a whine and a plea, but she ignored him. Or rather, she leaned over him, her hands on his shoulders, her thighs squeezing around his hips. Then, suddenly, he felt something warm and wet on his back, and he almost came right there. He gripped onto the bedsheets, biting down on the pillow under his head, as Mai, slowly, ran her tongue along the lines of the painting, licking it away slowly.

It was _agony._ It was also complete and utter _ecstasy._

Zuko shut his eyes, knowing that if he even caught a glimpse of her licking along his back he would lose it. He shifted against her, unable to keep his body from moving against both the bed and her body, and to his bittersweet delight he felt her moving with him, responding, her own breath coming out in slight gasps. She, too, was close to losing it. She, too, was on the edge.

When her tongue reached his neck and her full body was finally pressed against the full of his back, Zuko's control snapped. He uttered her name, pleading, almost writhing against her, pride be damned. She whispered his name back, slowly sliding off of him and beside him, teasing him, even as she trembled with her own need.

The moment she pressed up against him, his mouth was on hers, demanding, wanting, taking. She kissed back, clutching at him, one hand slipping between them and grabbing hold of his cock in a hard and solid grip. He moaned against her lips, thrusting against her hand. Her other hand reached up and grabbed onto his hip, her long nails digging in, and in a moment he had his hands on her hips, the move forcing her hand away from him, and bringing them up to meet his almost roughly. Mai pushed up, and Zuko's mind flashed red-hot as he buried himself deep within her, his hands slipping up from her hips to her shoulders. She whispered his name softly into his ear, her hands on his back, nails biting into skin, and he pulled out slowly, relishing in the feel of it, before once again thrusting in hard and deep.

Mai buried her face into his neck and bit down lightly as he moved, slowly at first, but then going faster each time he felt her muscles tighten around him. He reached up and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to flutter open and meet his gaze, and he held it, watching the colour glaze over with her desire, watching her face redden with each of his lunges.

Zuko pulled away, quite suddenly, and Mai's eyes flared, her hands slipping down to his hips, trying to get him to come back, but he pulled away. With a grin, he flipped over on his back, and she licked her lips, at once pouncing him and pinning him to the bed, one hand on his cock, the other on his shoulder. She gripped hard, teasing him, sliding her palm over the length of him, until he was practically begging her, pleading her name, trying so hard not to come and yet so badly wanting to.

The moment his pleas turned to whimpers, she finally complied, diving down on him so suddenly that once again he almost lost his mind. His hands grabbed onto her hips like she was his lifeline, and her hands gripped his shoulders as she rode him, hard and fast, without mercy and without steady rhythm, driving him absolutely insane and yet thrilling him at the same time.

She was the centre of the universe, this small little universe they had created, and he found himself unable to look away, even as her eyes closed and her voice caught, even as her body bucked hard and she shouted his name. The moment his name, his small, simple name, left her lips, his eyes closed and he thrust up to meet her, feeling the sweet ache of release, gripping so hard onto her hips that he knew he bruised. But she said his name again, breathless, and knew that it was meaningless compared to this shared cocoon of pleasure.

Shakily, Mai leaned down and buried her face into his neck, her breath hot and damp against his skin. He held her close, burying his face into her messy hair, breathing in her scent, especially tantalising now that it was spiced with sex. He felt her relaxing, felt her drifting, and when he opened his eyes to watch her fall into her post-coital doze, he saw that the room was dark, and night had fallen.

He smiled, closing his eyes, feeling himself following her into sleep. _Ludicrous? Maybe. _

_Worth it?_

Zuko shuddered a little with a faint aftershock. _Oh, most certainly, yes._


End file.
